Dreams
by greybasilisk
Summary: Bellamy and Clarke begin having strange dreams about each other, only they're definitely not the same kind of dreams. This, coupled with a new killer in camp, puts them both on edge, and brings them closer together.
1. Chapter 1

_Clarke awoke with light streaming through her tent and a strong arm around her. She couldn't help but smile as she stretched and yawned, feeling his arm squeeze her tightly before releasing her.  
"Don't get up yet," his throaty, sleepy voice sounded behind her. She turned onto her back and looked up at him. His dark hair was ruffled and his expression let her know that he'd only been awake for a few minutes.  
"We need to get up," she said, in between yawns. He moaned softly and rolled onto his stomach.  
"I'm sure we could stay in bed a little while longer. No one will notice. No one's even awake."  
Although his argument was valid – albeit muffled into his pillow, she knew they'd have to get up anyway, to check the perimeter of the Wall. She was still for a moment, just laying, watching him rest. He looked so young, so at peace. He looked less like a leader of delinquents, and more like  
"An angel." she couldn't help but mummer. He opened his eyes then, an eyebrow raised and a small smirk on his face.  
"I know my freckles add a sense of innocence but I've never quite heard that one before."  
Clarke laughed at his response, which turned his smirk into a grin. She turned onto her side and kissed him lightly on the lips.  
"Okay. Now we can get up." __H__e teased, and pulled the blankets away. _

"Clarke? Clarke!"  
His voice, and the sound of urgency within it, made her bolt upright.  
"Hey Princess. Quit dreaming. I need those hands of yours, it's an emergency."  
She stumbled to her feet, rubbing her eyes. Bellamy's usual smirk was missing from his expression, and when she looked down at his hands she noticed the blood, and how it was soaking its way into her blanket. She yanked it away from him, throwing it back onto her bed before asking:  
"What happened? Whose blood is that?"  
He was silent for a moment, his dark eyes trying to answer instead.  
"Bellamy?" She repeated. He blinked and grasped hold of her elbow, leading her out of her tent.

It was dark out, but Clarke could tell that it was near dawn. The camp was completely silent. Bellamy led her to the edge of the campsite, as though afraid the sleeping souls might overhear him.  
"Bellamy!" she barked out through gritted teeth. He whipped his head around, making sure no one was in sight, before unzipping his jacket and lifting his blood-soaked shirt to reveal a long, deep cut, making its way from his ribcage to his jeans.

Clarke's breath hitched and she put her hand out to touch the skin around it. But Bellamy cringed and dropped his shirt back down.

"What the hell happened?" she asked, and the amount of concern in her voice struck her slightly. But Bellamy looked to be having trouble breathing. And standing. She weaved her way between his torso and his right arm, wrapping her arm around him to grab his other hand. She stumbled back to her tent, where she knew her extra medical supplies were, and sat him back down on her bed.

"Bellamy, I need you to tell me what happened," she said firmly, gathering what she needed. He looked to be losing consciousness, but he held himself up and managed to answer her.  
"It was my dream. It was my... It was in my dream and now it's in real life."

He was unable to elaborate, as a moment later he was on his back, unconscious and bleeding out on her bed.

•••

Bellamy could sense movement next to him. His eyes fluttered open just long enough for him to make out his surroundings. Firstly; he was horizontal, which struck him as odd because the last thing he could remember was heading towards her tent. Which was where he was now.

In her tent.

In her bed.

And there she was too. Lying next to him.

Although he would have admittedly enjoyed being there in different circumstances, the dull stinging and tightness on his abdomen informed him that those different circumstances had definitely not occurred. He sighed and blindly felt his way to his injury. His shirt had been removed, but gauze blocked his path and he suddenly became aware of his bandages, and how firmly they were wrapped around his torso. His fingers ran over the outline of the long scar and the ridges of the stitching, and he made a mental note to ask Clarke what she had used to sow him up.

Speaking of Clarke.

He opened his eyes and slowly turned his head her way. She mummered something under her breath, and her shoulder twitched at the same time. She was asleep, but in a bitter state of that. The beautiful Princess had forsaken her calm, leader mask, and worry and fear streaked her face, like thick brushstrokes over a smooth, clean canvas. She looked vulnerable. And timid. Two things Bellamy was sure she was not.

Clarke turned towards him, still sound asleep, and her hand crept up to his shoulder, and then to his chest. Bellamy froze beneath her touch, unsure of how to react. Should he move? Should he wake her up? But the warmth from her fingers was seaping beneath his skin, into his bloodstream. It was too warm, too lovely and too unexpectedly calming for him to stop it. He closed his eyes and gently placed his hand over hers, hoping it wouldn't wake her.

If it did, she didn't pull away.


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke woke up before he did. She slowly detached her hand from his and sat up so she could check his bandages.

Bellamy was completely still, and the image of him in her bed reminded her of the dream she'd had. She fought to refrain from smiling at the thought.

The bandages were clean and intact, but Clarke took them off anyway, curious to determine what had caused Bellamy's injury. He moaned when she pulled them off, and then again when she lightly prodded the surrounding skin. There was very little discolouring, so it was safe for her to assume that he didn't have an infections. Then she took her time inspecting the wound, occasionally glancing up at his face to make sure he was still asleep.

_'Concern is a sign of weakness, Clarke,_' she scolded. She shook her head and placed her focus on the injury instead. It was hard to determine what the weapon had been - if it had been a weapon at all. Clarke regretted not knowing much about weapons or fighting. It was kind of compulsory down here. Bellamy had been a guard on the Ark. He knew how to defend himself. _'But a lot of good it did him,_' she added darkly. She took her time, staring at the cut. Her eyes travelled its length, until she got to his jeans, a centimetre below where the cut ended. She blinked and forced her eyes to travel back up. Up his injury, his ribcage - which protruded a bit, but not in a sickly manner, the steady rise and fall of his chest, his firm jaw, and

- those dark eyes.

The dark eyes watching her. Watching her watching him.

She could feel the heat rising from her chest, up her neck to her cheeks, but she ignored it (hoping he would too) and gave him a small smile.

"How are you feeling?"

Bellamy's intense gaze held for a long time. Clarke was beginning to feel uncomfortable, so she let her eyes drop back to his injury, when he finally answered.

"I've been better. But I don't think I've ever been much worse." The reply made Clarke's eyes shoot back to his. His smirk was back up, but it was more strained than usual. She cleared her throat and grabbed more bandages.

"So. Are you going to tell me what happened this time, or are you going to pass out again?" She mumbled, trying to keep it light. He groaned as he tried to sit up. She watched him, waiting for him to still so she could reapply the bandages. Bellamy gave her the okay and she slowly began to wind the bandages around his torso.

"I don't know, I was asleep when it happened. But when I woke up there was no one there. It's weird…" his voice drifted off and Clarke looked up at him.

"What's weird?"

Bellamy was silent as she finished bandaging. She got up to pack the rest of the medical supplies away before she sat back down beside him.

"What's weird, Bellamy?"

His gaze pierced her, and she wanted badly to look away, but she remained still, waiting.

"I had a dream," he said finally. Clarke raised her eyebrows in question.

"And? What happened in this dream?"

Bellamy heaved a sigh and got out of bed, struggling to stand up with his injury.

"I dreamt I got stabbed. Like this. By you."


	3. Chapter 3

Bellamy's head was reeling. Half due to blood loss, the rest due to, well, whatever the hell was going on.

He was back in his tent, with his shirt on (now clean of any and all blood) and nothing but his thoughts with which to occupy himself. Clarke had told him to stay in his quarters and rest. On any other given day he'd have said to hell with that and sauntered off somewhere. But she was a doctor.

Well. Sort of.

His makeshift tent seemed a lot less safe than it had when they'd first arrived. He chose to sit rather than lay down - something Clarke would object to, but it meant he wouldn't be caught off guard if anyone or thing decided to enter.

"You're paranoid," he whispered to himself and laughed bitterly. He was the strong rebel leader. The strike-first-questions-be-damned type. And yet here he was; alert and afraid. But he had good reason. Someone had crept into his tent and sliced him open while he was asleep. His brain went through a list of possible culprits, and Clarke wasn't one of them. She would never try to hurt him. They were co-leaders. They were getting along (as well as people like them could) and it was clear that they needed each other. There was no reason for her to do something that would negatively affect the camp.

And yet her face still popped into his head.

Why was that? Because of some silly dream?

He tried to convince himself that his mind had merely juxtaposed reality with some dream he'd been having.

Yes. That seemed logical. He'd been dreaming about Clarke and when the person had entered his tent and struck him, he had woken up, but his dream had continued. He smiled at his conclusion and sighed in content. At least he still had his sanity.

He leaped up at the sound of movement near his tent. It hurt to do so, but he ignored it.

"Wooooow, someone's jumpy," a teasing voice purred. It was a girl. She had been in his tent before, Bellamy remembered, during the first week or so. She was seventeen, with long blonde hair, a slim figure and no personality. That he remembered. Her name he did not.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" He barked, and she recoiled appropriately.

"I-Clarke asked me to come get you. She wanted to show you something."

Bellamy frowned. _'Stupid Princess. Tells me to rest. Tells me to get up. Does __she__ even know what she's talking about.'_ The girl in front of him - Loretta? Lauren? - stood awkwardly, waiting for him to make a move. He gave an irritated groan and stormed out. He opted to take long strides, hoping no one around him would notice his condition, but he could feel his skin pulling tightly, constricting his movements.

Clarke was near the Wall, talking to four guys who were on perimeter duty. They were in the middle of what seemed like a gravely important conversation, but Bellamy was in no mood to stand idly by. He skidded to a halt next to her, thereby ending whatever it is they were discussing.

"You demanded my presence?" He asked sarcastically. The group of teenage boys dispersed, leaving the two of them alone. Clarke recognized the look on his face to be that of annoyance, and she swiftly dragged him by the arm, urging him to keep up with her as she began her lap around the camp. Bellamy's steps fell in sync with hers, but it took more out of him than he'd have cared to admit.

"I'm sorry I called you out here. I know I was the one who told you to rest, but I had something to tell you," Clarke began, "Besides, you want people to see you. If you stay cooped up in your tent for more than a few hours, people will start to grow suspicious."

"Of course. What's the camp worth if their Brave Soldier is hiding inside, dying of a little scratch," he interjected.

"Bellamy, this is serious," she scolded, her blue eyes flashing with something he couldn't quite place.

"It always is," he sighed. He stopped walking and took a moment to lean against the Wall, blatantly aware of how tired he already was. He ignored the urge to check his wound and hugged his torso instead, as though that would make the pain go away. Clarke had stopped too and was standing near him, a respectable distance away, but close enough to grab him were anything to happen. He eased himself back onto his feet, growling when Clarke made to assist him.

"Right so you had something to tell me?" Bellamy asked as the two continued their walk. Clarke nodded.

"Yeah. I was talking to the guys on Wall duty last night and they said there were no disturbances. And I had them check and there are no signs of forced entry – no holes or cracks or anything. Which means"-

-"Which means whoever came into my tent last night has a tent here of their own." He finished for her. She nodded again.

"Which means whoever stabbed you is one of us. And my guess is that whoever it is planned on killing you. Which means they're going to try again." Her tone was even, but Bellamy could sense how concerned she was. There were plenty of murderers in the camp, but a very few who would risk going up against him. And even fewer dumb enough to try.

"Good," he muttered.

"Good?" she echoed in disbelief. He clenched his jaw and turned to look down at her.

"We have less than a hundred suspects. That's good enough for me."

Clarke scoffed.

"I never pegged you as a glass-half-full kind of guy." She noted teasingly with a smile.

"Princess," he whispered, inching closer towards her with a smirk planted on his face, "You have no idea what kind of guy I am." And with that he turned around and walked back to his tent.

* * *

**There it is folks, the first three chapters! I'm so blown away by the response I got from the first chapter, I want to kiss you all. I decided to upload chapters 2 and 3 together because chapter 2 is pretty short /: Also, I know ch1 was filled with fluff and that ch2 and ch3 were more serious business but the fluff will return, just you wait :-) xxxxxxx**


	4. Chapter 4

It was something past midnight and just about everybody had gone to bed. But Clarke was awake, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen soon. She told herself that she was just overworked and exhausted – and both were true – but she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her. She shivered and crossed her arms, watching the flames from the fireplace dwindle and burn out.

'_That's enough, Clarke_,' she thought, '_if you stay out here any longer you'll go mad_.' She quickly got up to leave. Wow. Too quickly. Her head started to spin and she hastily found her way back down to the ground.

"You're dehydrated." Bellamy's voice came from behind her, making her jump. He sat down next to her and handed her a tin cup.

"It's not coffee, but it'll keep you alive," he said solemnly, watching her take a sip from the corner of his eye. His mouth twitched as she downed it and a small smile spread across his face in response to the satisfied sigh she gave. Their eyes locked for a moment before she handed him his cup back.

"Thanks."

"Anything for you, Princess."

He had said it jokingly but that didn't stop the blood from rushing from her chest to her cheeks. Thank God it was so dark outside. There had been something so affectionate and domestic about what he'd said, it made her happy and sad and homesick at the same time. Bellamy noticed her silence and cleared his throat.

"So why are you still awake?" he asked, fishing for a conversation. Clarke brought her knees up to her chest and heaved a sigh.

"No doubt the same reason as you; looking for some psycho that wants to finish what he started."

"Or _she_." He argued, that small smile back on his face. She shrugged and closed her eyes.

"All I know is that I've never been this exhausted and awake at the same time in my life," she mumbled. He laughed at that, which made her eyes snap open. A laughing Bellamy Blake was something she had to see.

His laugh was soft, and his usually dark eyes were alight with what looked like happiness. He had laughter lines and the freckles on his cheeks stood out more. He looked young and innocent and something about the image made Clarke's heart ache. Whether it was a good ache or bad ache she didn't know, but she thought she'd be better off not going there.

"So, go to sleep, I can manage without you." He urged, but Clarke wasn't ready to leave him alone.

"No, what if they attack you from behind or something? I'm staying here with you."

"Clarke," he began, but she held up her hand to stop him.

"Don't tell me I need rest. _You_ need rest. You were attacked last night, Bellamy. You need sleep whether you know it or not. Whether you like it or not. You shouldn't be out here in the first place." She rested her hand on his arm and looked up at him with pleading eyes. Bellamy was silent for a while before he nodded and got up.

"Okay. But you're coming too," he stated, rubbing dirt off his pants. Clarke didn't budge.

"No, I'm on lookout." Bellamy huffed and gave her a stern look.

"You said you'd stay with me. Well now I'm leaving. Come on, Princess." He held out his hand, which she stared at for about a minute. She didn't want to take it, but when she stifled a yawn he brought it down closer to where she was sitting. She was reluctant to take it, but she did anyway. He pulled her up and the two stood side by side.

"Where are you sleeping tonight?" she asked. This earned her a confused look from him.

"Don't tell me you're sleeping in your own tent. The one you were attacked in. Last night."

He rolled his eyes and Clarke made a sound that implied she was unimpressed.

"Well where else should I sleep? The dropship?"

"No. You'll freeze to death before you get the chance to be killed." She answered hesitantly. Bellamy sighed and the two began their trek to the tents.

"Well you and I could always bunk," he suggested once they arrived at her tent. Clarke was about to protest, but her eyes were beginning to droop and she could see the way he winced every time he took a deep breath. Also, she couldn't help but notice the urgency in his voice. He sounded scared. No, not scared. Was it...concern? Exhaustion? Desire?

The last word had flitted through her mind like a tiny butterfly, and had disappeared before she could even register the thought.

"Fine. But don't bleed on my blankets this time."

•••

_Bellamy and Clarke were alone by the campfire. He was resting his head on her crossed leg while she absentmindedly played with his hair. The only person who had ever played with his hair was his mother, and that was years before she'd been floated. But Clarke's fingers moved differently from that of his mother. Her moves were rhythmic, calming. His mother's had been short and quick and urgent, and usually in front of guards. But Clarke had a calming effect on him. Sure, she also had an annoying effect, and she had the tendency to piss people off, but her light was too bright to overlook. _

_He reached up and twirled a lock of her hair between his fingers. Her daydream came to an end and she looked down at him, her blue eyes slightly darker than usual. _

_"What's wrong, Princess?" He asked when he saw her serious expression. She frowned and bit her lip. _

_"Something…" her voice trailed off after the first word. Something about the look in her eyes made Bellamy sit upright. He watched her intently as she stared into the almost-burnt out fire. _

_"__Clarke?" _

_But a loud thumping noise from beyond the wall startled them both to their feet. _

_"__Bellamy?" she whispered. His face whipped her way, aware of the tone of her voice. She looked frightened. Pain shot through his chest at the sight of her._

_"__Clarke, stay back." He warned her. She obliged and took a few steps back. The sound returned, closer this time. Bellamy looked around for a gun, but could find none. The noise echoed closer, and this time the whole Wall lurched forward with it. _

_"__Bellamy?!" Clarke yelled. He stumbled back away from the Wall, reaching for her hand. But he couldn't find it. He turned around, expecting to see Clarke. The empty space in front of him made his breath hitch. _

_"__CLARKE?" he yelled out into the night, spinning around._

_"__Bellamy…" he heard her whisper. _

_The Wall lurched forward again. And again. _

_"__Clarke?! Clarke, where are you?" he called out. The Wall was giving way, it was about to break. The loud thumping continued._

_"__CLARKE?!" he roared, feeling his throat close up and claustrophobia creep in. But there was no response. _

_The Wall gave way and a foreign darkness swept over the camp, leaving Bellamy screaming her name. _

* * *

**I'd like to apologize in advance for if I take a while to update the next chapter - exam time and such. Thank you so much again for following and reviewing, I love you guys xx**


	5. Chapter 5

She could hear him, moaning her name in his sleep. He sounded scared, or worried.

She heaved a sigh and opened her eyes, instinctively searching for his face. He was next to her, but he seemed so far away. Bellamy was on his side – his back facing her, with the blanket twisted around his stomach and his bandages unraveling.

She was still for a moment. Should she wake him? He called for her again, this time in a tone that suggested he couldn't find her. She tucked her hair behind her ear and bent forward to wake him.

"Bellamy? Bellamy," she called softly, gently rubbing his shoulder. She watched a frown form on his face.

"Bellamy, I'm right here. I'm right here, Bellamy." She leaned over so that he would see her when he woke. But instead he turned away, into the pillow. She looked down at his bandages and saw splotches of colour.

"Bellamy? Bellamy, you need to wake up. Wake up, Bellamy!" She hissed urgently. When he didn't wake, she had no choice but to resort to slapping. Her palm met his cheek and he was sitting upright a split-second later.

"What the hell, Clarke?" He yelled, rubbing his stinging jaw.

"You were having a nightmare," she said pointedly, "I think you tore your stitches."

Bellamy looked down at his bandages and let out a frustrated groan. Clarke stood up from her bed and got the supplies.

"You'll wanna lay down." She ordered, crouching down beside him. He scowled but did as she instructed. She pushed the blanket away and started to undo his bandaging, careful not to tug too hard or too quickly. He winced as the material left his wound, and Clarke couldn't help but sigh when she saw that the stitches had indeed torn.

"I can't give you anything for the pain..." She began, but Bellamy shook his head.

"I'll be fine." Clarke stared at him for a moment.

"Bellamy"-

-"Clarke."

His jaw was tight and his expression stony.

"Bellamy. I'm not questioning your masculinity here."

"While I appreciate the concern, Princess, I'm telling you. I'll be fine."

Clarke sighed.

"Okay, but this is going to hurt." And with the warning in the air she began. Bellamy stilled and she could see his muscles tightening as she worked. Guilt flooded her and she searched for something to serve as a distraction.

"What were you dreaming about?" She asked after a long silence. Bellamy's sorrowful eyes met hers and for a second she thought about ending the conversation. But only for a second. She continued with the stitching, waiting for a reply.

"It...It was a nightmare. That's all." His tone was light, but his expression was not. Clarke looked down at her working hands and winced. Sympathy pain. She cleared her throat and went on to the next question.

"What happened?"

Bellamy shut his eyes, as though he were looking for the answer behind them.

"If you don't want to tell me"-

-"It was about you."

His words echoed in her tent and silence followed. Clarke looked up from her work and into his eyes. His gaze was strong, unwavering. She gulped and opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.

"You and I, we were...we were guarding the Wall," he began slowly, "Well we were supposed to be, but we were just sitting by the fire. And..." He stopped, searching for what to say next. Clarke finished with the stitching and started unwinding the bandages from their roll, her eyes down, still listening intently.

"Something was behind the Wall. There was this noise - like a drum or loud footsteps - it was deafening, and I told you to get back. Then you screamed my name and I looked back and you were gone," Bellamy's words were streaming from his mouth at a rapid pace, as though he needed them to leave his mind.

"And I called out your name but you wouldn't respond and I couldn't find you. And the Wall broke down and then there was nothing and I was alone. And all I could hear was the loud noise and I just kept calling for you. I just kept calling your name."

He was sitting up now, (did she remember that happening?) his chest rising and falling quickly, as though he'd been running. The bandages she'd been busy with had been put aside, and Clarke was staring at him, her blue eyes wide. He looked afraid and desperate, and for a moment she contemplated giving him a hug. But this was Bellamy Blake. Rebel Soldier. She wasn't going to push him. He'd just opened up to her. He might not have proclaimed his thoughts and feelings to her, but that dream he'd just shared at been personal and emotional. Logically, there had been nothing too frightening about it. But it was more than that. It had consisted of one single emotion throughout. Fear. Fear of losing control, fear of being alone, fear of losing her.

Bellamy's breathing had regained normality and he moved to lay down, but she caught him by the arm.

"Hold on," she said gently. She picked up the bandaging and began to wrap it around him once again.

"You won't lose me, Bellamy." She said after the long silence. His eyes met hers, and she expected to see confusion, or frustration even. Any of the other emotions he usually used to hide his true feelings. But she saw nothing but honesty.

"And you won't lose control either," she added as she finished up. She packed the supplies away and sat back down next to him. He hadn't moved, but his eyes had been following her the whole time. Clarke gave him a small smile and put her hand on his.

"Safe sleep, Bellamy." She uttered, before turning around and laying down.

"Princess..." She heard him begin, but then he too turned around. She pulled the blanket over her shoulder and the two remained in silence until sleep greeted them both.


	6. Chapter 6

_The sun had dried their clothing much quicker than she'd anticipated. Clarke grabbed them off the rocks and headed back to Bellamy, who was squeezing the last bit of water out of his pants. He grinned when he spotted her. _

_"No time for fun, hey Princess?" He teased. She rolled her eyes at him, but was grinning all the same. He glanced at their clothing in her hands. _

_"Play time over, then, I guess," he quipped, and she nodded confirmation, passing him his shirt before moving to put her now semi-dry pants on. Her shirt was sticking to her skin, still sopping from the lake, but they had a long enough walk back for it to dry in time. Bellamy shrugged his shirt back on and grabbed his boots. _

_"That was nice; being alone." He said. Clarke picked up her boots and sat down next to him. _

_"Yeah, it was." _

_They finished dressing in silence, but both had smiles on their faces. It had only been a 15 minute swim in the lake. Nothing more. Yet there was something so intimate about it, they felt it best to not speak of it, as though mentioning it would strip it of its privacy or reality. _

_"You know something, Princess?" Bellamy spoke after a long period of silence. Clarke looked at him expectantly. _

_"We're a great team." He declared proudly. Clarke's laugh rang through the forest. _

_"Of course we are," She snipped, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Bellamy grinned and took hold of her elbow, thereby slowing her down until neither of them were moving. _

_"But we could be even greater..." He murmered, his eyes darting from her eyes to her lips. Clarke batted her lashes, unsure of how to react to his sudden forwardness. He closed the space between them and - 'Bellamy, stop." She said before his lips met hers. He looked confused for a moment, but then he nodded slowly and retreated away from her. _

_Seeing him do so made Clarke's blood run cold._

_"Wait," she took a step forward and grabbed his hand. If he was taken aback, he didn't look it. She intertwined her fingers with his and stood on her toes to plant a kiss on his mouth. _

_"We don't need to be together, publically, to be greater leaders." She said. He smirked and wrapped an arm around her waist._

_"Yeah, but wouldn't you prefer to be My Queen?" He asked. Clarke snorted and unwound herself from him._

_"I don't think that would catch on," she teased, and the two made their way back to camp. _

"Clarke?"

Clarke opened her eyes just in time to see Finn's surprised expression disappear from the opening of her tent. She looked to her left, where Bellamy lay, shirtless, asleep, peaceful. During the night he had turned around and was now facing her, his body a few inches from hers.

She suddenly realized what Finn had seen.

"Finn, wait"- she sprang to her feet and followed him out the tent into the early morning air.

"Finn!"

Finn stopped in his tracks and rotated slowly. The hurt and disappointment on his face made guilt rush through her bloodstream.

"Finn, its not what you think"-

-"Isn't it?" He interjected. She swallowed and took a step towards him, keen on keeping their conversation away from prying eyes and ears.

"No. Yes; he stayed the night," she began. Finn made a huffing sound and began to walk off.

"But _nothing happened_, Finn. Nothing," she caught hold of his arm. He sighed and turned to face her.

"Clarke. You know how I feel about you. And I know you have feelings for me that you don't want to act on. And I can respect that. You're free to be with whoever you want. But just don't lie to me."

Clarke felt as though he had physically struck her. She narrowed her eyes.

"I expected people to think little of me. But you? I thought you knew me better than that. Do you really think I'd stoop that low?" This time it was Finn's turn to double take.

"You make me sound like the bottom of the barrel," a low voice sounded from behind her, making her jump. Bellamy had emerged from her tent, with his shirt still off and his hair a mess. Although his current appearance contradicted what she'd been saying, she was glad he was there to ease the tension. Finn avoided Bellamy's eyes and chose to stare at Clarke instead.

"I think highly of you. Don't think I don't. But some things you can't mix with others," he said, his eyes darting in Bellamy's direction, who rolled his eyes in return.

"Take a hike, Spacewalker. Come back when your head's a size smaller." And he went back inside her tent. Finn threw Clarke one more disappointed look before he walked off.

"Boys." Clarke spat. It wasn't even midday and she'd been pissed off to a point of no return. She didn't want to think about Finn. Or Bellamy, for that matter. So she downed a cup of water and crept out of camp.

* * *

**This is technically only half of chapter 6, sorry its being posted so late. But I've had to study and the latest episode didn't exactly inspire me (someone hold my hand) and I'd already written this bit so I decided to quickly post it. It's hella short, I know, but I'll look for inspiration tonight and hopefully be able to post more tomorrow! xxx**


	7. Chapter 7

"Has anyone seen Clarke?" Bellamy's voice boomed through the camp. A few kids shook their heads before returning to their work, and he couldn't help but groan at their lack of concern. She'd been gone for nearly two hours. Granted, that wasn't a very long time, but Clarke would never go off without at least telling someone.

Then again, he could understand if she had.

He took a quick look through the dropship, but he saw no princess in sight.

"Octavia?" he called out. Maybe she'd seen Clarke.

"She's not here." The voice behind him made him spin around. Jasper was sitting on the floor, polishing his goggles.

"What do you mean she's not here?" Bellamy barked. Jasper looked up from his work.

"Well you're free to interoperate it however you like. But she left this morning. Said she needed a bath or something. I wasn't really awake yet." And with that he went back to his goggles. Bellamy was still for a moment. He needed to find Clarke. But he needed to find Octavia too – it wasn't safe out there. '_Clarke's fine. She's just blowing off steam. She's probably around here somewhere_.' He assured himself. So he pocketed his gun and left camp.

•••

He'd walked for a good ten minutes before Jasper's words sunk in. A bath. Bath's generally required water. He let out a frustrated growl and began walking in the lake's direction.

He thought it funny how Finn had been acting that morning. He knew a jealous look when he saw one. But he had never expected Finn to behave the way he had, especially to Clarke. Finn was a good guy – that much was obvious. What with his morals, his niceness, '_his hair_,' Bellamy added. It had been strange to see someone like him act as coldly as he had.

"Even nice guys have demons," he muttered aloud. He trudged around the forest, but stopped in his tracks when he heard a noise. He was still for a moment, before he moved closer to the lake, his footsteps falling silently as he went.

Clarke's laughter rang out, echoing around him. It was the most peculiar sound, he thought to himself; uncharacteristically happy and bubbly. He edged nearer and stopped behind a tree, close enough to see her, but far enough away for her not to see him.

She was in the water – neck-high, in fact. Her hair was wet and plastered to her shoulders, her face clean and brighter than he'd seen in a while. She was laughing at something. '_Someone_.' He corrected himself as he saw a figure rising from beneath the water. Octavia's head popped up and the two girls laughed some more. Bellamy was awestruck. A sight such as this one couldn't be real, considering their situation or surroundings. He blinked, but they were still there in the water; happy and innocent and oblivious. His girls were happier than he'd ever seen, and it made him smile.

Wait. _His_ girls? Bellamy frowned at the word. _His_. He possessed neither of them. How could he? Octavia was his sister, yes, but he didn't own her. He could protect her and look out for her, but she didn't need his help. Not anymore. And Clarke? Bellamy shook his head, hoping doing so would eradicate the thought.

The sound of water splashing made him jolt back to reality. Clarke and Octavia were getting out now. He stayed in his spot, but craned his neck to watch them. They got out of the water in a hurry, both shivering in nothing but their underwear. Bellamy's eyes widened for a second before he closed them and looked away. That was his sister.

He realized he had no excuse for the other girl, but decided his respect for her was probably enough. He wasn't going to lie, that image had seared into his brain. And he definitely didn't intend on forgetting about it any time soon.

The girls chattered as they fetched their clothes and dressed. Bellamy counted to twenty before he moved from his spot and headed in their direction.

"Octavia?" he called out. There was a short silence, followed by Octavia calling out his name in reply. He increased his pace and reached them in a matter of seconds. Clarke was fully dressed and Octavia was putting her shoes back on.

"Hey Bell. Whatchu doing here?" she asked lightly, grinning up at him. He raised an eyebrow at her but couldn't suppress his smirk.

"Looking for you two. You know you shouldn't have left camp alone." He said, his eyes darting between her and Clarke. Octavia let out an exasperated sigh and stood up.

"My brother; always looking out for me." She said as she patted his shoulder. Clarke took a step towards them.

"I know I shouldn't have left." It was all she said, but Bellamy sensed it was her way of apologizing. He nodded his understanding and turned to his sister.

"And you?" He asked pointedly. Octavia rolled her eyes.

"I needed a bath. Next time I'll ask your permission first."

Bellamy scowled at her sarcasm but didn't press on. He didn't want to ruin their good moods. Not after he'd seen them that way.

"Come on, let's get back to camp," he said. The two girls nodded in agreement and the three of them set off.

"Thank you, Octavia." Clarke said after a while. Octavia gave her a small smile.

"Any time." Bellamy looked at them questioningly, but Octavia shook her head.

"Nah huh, Bell. Girl talk." She said before she skipped ahead. Bellamy looked from her to Clarke, who was pulling her hair to one side, smiling to herself.

"Did the Princess have fun?" he asked teasingly. Her eyes met his and for a second she looked as though she were daydreaming, but then she was looking at him again, the smile back on her face.

"I did." She said with a content sigh. Bellamy noted the way her eyes looked brighter when she smiled. It lit up her face and made her look like the young girl she was supposed to be.

"Good," he replied, "don't let that Spacewalker mess with you." Her face turned to him, and she was about to say something. Whatever it was apparently wasn't worth saying, so she closed her mouth and nodded. Bellamy suddenly became aware of his staring, and so opted to look ahead instead.

"There were no disturbances last night. Whoever it is that tried to kill me probably saw I wasn't in my tent and just gave up. I don't know if this means we should forget about it, or if we should still be worrying about it." He said, his voice low so Octavia couldn't hear. Clarke inhaled deeply.

"I don't think they'll have just given up, and I don't think we should either." She argued. Bellamy nodded and they approached the Wall. Octavia looked back at them and gave Bellamy a knowing smile and raised eyebrow before she entered the camp.

"So, are we still bunkmates?" he asked, his signature smirk planted on his face. Clarke looked up at him and sighed, sporting a tired smile.

"As long as no one comes into my tent to kill me too."

Bellamy felt his smirk slide off his face and he turned his whole body towards her.

"I wouldn't let that happen." He breathed. Clarke bit her lip before she smiled and shook her head.

"Let's just go inside, Bellamy."

"After you, Princess."

* * *

**For you, my pretties xxx feel free to comment on the fluff - or lack thereof (I don't know really, its your opinion) I feel so relieved to have finished this one so quickly because I have so much more studying to do (aargh the angst) but anyway enjoy! xxx**


	8. Chapter 8

"Okay," she said to the crowd of angry teenagers, "I'll explain it again." A kid in the back groaned and she threw him a mom look.

"I understand that you don't want to share your tents anymore. But it's winter; the dropship can't be used to sleep in. You _will_ freeze in there if you do. Which is why we need to work together to either insulate it or to build something else. If we don't we're gonna have a big problem when the storms start. Does everybody understand?" She cast a look at the individuals who had started the debate. Most of them rolled their eyes but they all gave quick nods.

"How the hell are we going to insulate that entire dropship?" Bellamy muttered into her ear, much to her surprise. She turned to look up at him.

"I have no clue. But we'll think of something." She whispered back. Bellamy gave her a questioning look before he turned to the rest of the camp.

"We'll discuss it more tomorrow." He concluded. The crowd dispersed and the two headed towards her tent. Night had fallen sooner than anticipated.

'_Gee_,' she thought to herself, '_I wonder why that could be_.' Bellamy parted the tent's opening for her and she crouched inside. He followed her in and the two began to occupy themselves on either side of the tent. Clarke removed her shoes and her jacket.

"God, I miss pyjamas." She sighed. Bellamy looked her way and gave the briefest of smiles before he returned his attention to whatever it was he was doing.

"You know what I miss?" He asked after a while. Clarke looked up at him expectantly. He sat down next to her on the bed and frowned slightly.

"I miss being a janitor."

Clarke threw him a questioning look. Bellamy cocked his head to the side, his eyes flitting from her to the ground.

"I miss not being anybody. I mean; I've always had to take care of Octavia. I've always been there for her. To protect her. But she's just one person. Down here...down here it's her, and you, and everyone else and...And down here everybody knows me. They look up to me. They expect things from me. And I don't know..." His voice faltered and he eyed her before continuing, "I don't know that I can keep us safe."

Clarke stared up at him with wide eyes. Well that was unexpected. Bellamy had never uttered a single word regarding his old life on the Ark. Clarke had begun to believe that he just hadn't existed until their arrival on Earth. She found it difficult to picture; him being a janitor. _Him_. Strong, cocky, confident Bellamy Blake. But apparently he wasn't as confident as he appeared to be.

Before she knew what she was doing she was wrapping her arms around him and leaning her head on his chest. He was completely still beneath her, no doubt thinking of a way to react. She closed her eyes and smiled a small smile when she felt his arms close around her. It was a loose hug; not very intimate but not strained either. She pulled away slightly so she could look up at him.

"Bellamy. All of these people are not your responsibility. They're _our_ responsibility. _We_ have to keep them safe. You're not on your own down here. You have me."

His eyes never strayed from hers as she spoke, but when she finished he closed them and exhaled loudly.

"We're a great team," he murmured encouragingly, a serious expression on his face. His words struck Clarke. She was sure she'd heard them before. She shook the thought from her mind and gave him a small smile before she removed herself from him.

"Night." She said as she pulled the blanket down and got settled in to sleep. She heard him heave a content sigh and he moved to settle into bed too.

"Goodnight, Clarke." She heard him whisper. She smiled to herself before she closed her eyes and pulled the blanket up around her. But she couldn't help but think about how much warmer Bellamy was in comparison.

•••

_Bellamy and Clarke sat huddled together in his tent. Rain pelted the thick material and the savage wind tried to rip the structure from the ground. Both of them were soaking wet, having ran from the edge of camp to the nearest, driest safe haven. Clarke's teeth were chattering and he could feel her shivering next to him. Bellamy peeled his sopping wet jacket off and kicked off his shoes. _

_"Take your jacket off," he suggested. She took the heavy item of clothing off and threw it to the far side of the tent. He blew into his hands before he started rubbing her forearms, hoping it would warm her up._

_"Okay. Okay Bellamy, I'm warm now." She said, half laughing. He stopped but didn't remove his hands. _

_"I'm not," he said, his expression blank but his eyes alight. Clarke frowned a little, with the ghost of a smile on her lips. _

_"Bellamy..." He let go of her and pulled his shirt over his head in one swift movement before she could continue. Her eyes remained on his, but he had the sense a part of her was putting up a fight in order to do so. _

_"Come on, Princess. I'm going to get hypothermia if you don't take your shirt off right now." He gave her his famous smirk and Clarke scoffed in protest. He remained silent but raised an eyebrow and waited for her to respond. _

_"__Oh my God, Bellamy," she groaned before finally taking her top off. He fought the urge to cheer._

_"__This is great, now we're both going to freeze," she gasped, crossing her arms over her now bare stomach. Bellamy laughed._

_"__It's Survival-101, Clarke. Come on." He said, putting his arm around her and pulling her into him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head beneath his chin. Bellamy closed his eyes and tightened his grip, as though she might slip from his grasp at any moment. Her skin was warm beneath his fingers, almost hot but not quite. He moved away so he could look at her. Her blonde hair was half dry and her blue eyes were dark, but nonetheless happy. She gave him a curious frown and a smile and then he was kissing her and she was kissing him. It was a simple kiss. It wasn't too longing or hungry, but it wasn't curt or unemotional either. It represented them, and where they stood. That perfect balance between needing and not needing. He couldn't help but break it off and grin at her._

_"__W-what?" she asked, confused by his abruptness. He would have told her, but at that moment came an unbearably loud tearing sound, and the next thing he knew_

He was laying in her bed, in her tent with her beside him, and someone was standing outside, ripping the material apart with a knife.

* * *

**I'm so sorry this is late, I've just been so busy studying for history and I literally just finished this! Anyway, hope you enjoyed the little fluffy fluff, I'll update as soon as I can - but only after I've seen episode 12 /: (which won't be until Friday) Feel free to comment (whether it's love or hate, I better from both) and enjoy the rest of your week! xx**


	9. Chapter 9

Clarke awoke to a strange sound. She would have assumed it was canvas being torn, but at that moment it had sounded so shrill, so loud and invasive, that she could have laid there for hours and would never have guessed it. For some reason - perhaps the suddenness or the unexpectedness - the sound made her go cold inside and made her feel sick. She pried her eyes open, searching for the cause of the terrible noise.

The air caught in her throat at the sight.

Someone was standing outside of her tent, using a knife (or some other kind of sharp object) to pry through the material. It was too dark out to see who it was, but the moonlight had been kind enough to shine on the person, leaving a shadow on her tent for her to see.

The shadow was obscure, with long, thin limbs. Whether male or female, that was unclear - but Clarke was dumbfounded by the femininity of the person's frame. The figure struck the tent slowly, with pauses in between, as though unsure whether to continue.

Clarke sat up, ready to hurl herself out into the night, when she caught sight of movement within the tent. Bellamy had awoken. He was sitting up too, his chest heaving - obviously on high alert, and he gave her a quick nod before the two flung themselves out of bed and sprinted out the tent.

The cold midnight air hit her like a splash of ice water. She gasped, but kept running - only to knock into something hard and fall to the floor. Her chest and chin stung, but she scrambled to her feet in a matter of seconds.

"Bellamy!" She exclaimed, staring at the solid wall she'd just bumped into. Man, he was solid. Bellamy frowned at her before making a 360 turn, looking for the person that had long since scurried off.

"DAMN IT!" He yelled, kicking the side of her already vandalized tent.

"Did you see who it was?" He barked at her. She held in a groan and glared at him instead.

"Do you think if I'd seen who it was I'd still be standing here?" She asked rhetorically. He let out a huff and rubbed his nose.

"This is unbelievable. They were right outside!" He said, his voice rising. Clarke took a step towards him and laid a hand on his back, urging him away from the tents.

"Listen. Whoever it is obviously knows that you're sleeping arrangement has changed, so who in camp have you told?" She asked, keeping her voice low. Her question earned her a hard look and a clenched jaw.

"Listen, Princess, I'm not an idiot. I haven't told anybody in camp. Maybe it was Finn. Or maybe it was you." He retorted accusingly. Clarke raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

"You think I'm going to go around telling people Bellamy Blake is my new roommate? And Finn wouldn't tell anybody. He wouldn't spread rumours, especially if he didn't know the truth." Bellamy rolled his eyes and put a hand on his hip.

"Okay, fine. So we didn't tell anybody. Maybe"-

-"Bellamy," Clarke interrupted, suddenly realizing something, "Bellamy, they're still here." She said, her blue eyes wide. Bellamy frowned in confusion, only to understand a moment later, a look of determination now set on his face. The two split up and began to move cautiously between the tents, searching for any signs of movement. Clarke crouched down, peeking through some tents' entrances, but it seemed everyone in camp was sound asleep. She saw Bellamy do the same, and when he finished he headed to the dropship. She opted to follow. They drifted in, silent as possible - any semi-loud movement would cause an echo - and looked around, but to no avail.

"Damn it!" Bellamy all but bellowed through gritted teeth. Clarke stood in silence, watching him pace around the entrance of the dropship.

"Bellamy, you're going to wake everyone up," she scolded. He stopped pacing and advanced her way, carrying a fierce expression and an intimidating step.

"Clarke. Someone in this camp tried to kill me. Someone," he said, pointing towards the sea of tents, "that is probably in one of those tents right now, tried to rip yours apart. They know I'm sleeping in your tent, and they're obviously not afraid of letting us know that. So I don't know about you, but I think it's time we let people know what's going on." His words spilled out in a rush, and his dark eyes were wide and alert, and it was unsettling to see. Clarke swallowed and took a deep breath before trying to reason with him.

"I understand, Bellamy, I do. But what would the point be of waking them all up now, in the middle of the night? All that's gonna do is piss them off and make it harder for everyone to wake up in the morning. We can tell them tomorrow; when everyone's awake and you've calmed down. Okay?" She argued, placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to keep her voice even. He stared at her for a while, before he nodded slowly and she led him back to her tent.

"I can't believe they were right outside." He muttered bitterly in bed, after a long period of complete silence. Clarke turned her body to face him and looked up at his tired face.

"Bellamy. We'll get them." She whispered soothingly. He closed his eyes and exhaled, and then he turned on to his side too, so that he was facing her. His eyes flickered to hers and he nodded. Clarke smiled and closed her eyes, and minutes later she was asleep.

•••

_"Stop moving," she scolded, her eyes darting from his face to the paper in front of her. The pencil she held in her left hand was flitting over the page, recreating his face, his neck, his shoulder. She looked up at him again, and caught him grinning at her._

_"__Bellamy! Serious expressions only," she groaned exasperatedly. Bellamy's grin turned into a smirk and he arched his eyebrow._

_"__What? Like this?" he teased, suddenly frowning. Clarke threw one of her extra pencils at him, which he dodged, and it landed next to him in the bed. Clarke shook her head in frustration and went back to her drawing._

_"__You know you have to look at me in order to draw me, right?" He asked. She could hear his smile, but she refused to look up at him, deciding to draw from memory instead. _

_"__You're too distracting to draw," she muttered from her seat. Bellamy cocked his head and laid back in bed._

_"__Maybe I'm just too good looking." He offered. Clarke scoffed and met his eyes briefly. They were dark, but light, and full of mischief. Suddenly;_

_'__SNAP.'_

_She looked down at her drawing. The pencil in her hand had snapped. _

_"__Shoot," she muttered, "Bellamy hand me that pencil." She said, holding out her palm. When there was no reply or sign of movement she looked up to where he lay._

_What she saw made her blood run cold. _

_"__BELLAMY!" she cried, scrambling to his side. He was lying in bed, his eyes closed, as if he were asleep. The knife protruding from his stomach and the mass amount of blood pooling on to the sheets inclined to disagree. _

_"__BELLAMY?" She screamed, trying to find his pulse. But there was no pulse. No breathing. The only sign of life was the blood still streaming from the long gash on his waist. Her hands shook as she pulled the knife out, before hauling it to the other side of the tent. Hot tears were flowing down her cheeks, dripping from her chin on to his bloody skin. Her body was trembling as she pressed down on the wound, fighting to stop the bleeding. _

_"__Bellamy? Bellamy? No, no, no, no," she cried out. Her bloodied hands went up to his face and she checked for his pulse again, but he remained still._

_"__SOMEBODY HELP ME!" She yelled out, unable to control her sobbing. Her trembling fingers moved from his face to his wound to his face again, leaving bloody prints in their path. She clutched the side of his head and cried into his chest. _

_"__Wake up, Bellamy!" she yelled, looking up at him. His face was pale, nearly as pale as hers. She moved closer to him and leaned down. _

_"'__You have to wake up, Bellamy," she whispered to him, her voice shaking and cracking mid-sentence, "For me, Bellamy. I need you, Bellamy. I need you. Wake up. Please wake up." Her sobbing continued and she collapsed, hugging him, hanging on to him. She curled her legs up next to him and put her head on his chest. _

_"__Please, Bellamy. I need you." She whispered. Her sobbing began to subside and she worked on evening her breathing. _

_"__If you go I don't know what I'll do. Please, Bellamy. Please just wake up" She whispered. She looked up at his face - his peaceful, sleeping face, and put her lips to his. They were cold against hers, and the reminder made her eyes water. She sat up and looked down at his wound. The bleeding had stopped and the blood was already drying. Clarke brushed the hair from his face, only to replace it with his blood. She shut her eyes squeezing them tightly._

_"__It's not real," she whispered to herself, "It's not real." _

"It's not real," he heard her murmur. He turned to face her, to wake her, but stopped dead when he saw the tear stains on her cheeks. She was curled up into a ball, frowning in her sleep. Whatever she was dreaming about was causing her pain, and the need to comfort her overtook him. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into him, hoping it would soothe her. He waited for her breathing to steady before he let himself drift back to sleep.

* * *

**That was so hard to write and it took me forever, so I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews feed my soul, so keep em coming, and how excited are we for the finale? Enjoy your weekend further xx**


	10. Chapter 10

Bellamy stood at the dropship's entrance, surrounded by their group of delinquents, waiting for silence. Clarke was standing next to him - the perfect queen, he thought - still and patiently awaiting silence.

"Everybody be quiet!" He commanded. The last few whispers faded into nothing, and eighty-something faces looked up at him. Bellamy cleared his throat and put a hand on his hip.

"Right: A few nights ago someone came into my tent and tried to kill me. Suffice it to say they were unsuccessful"- he broke off, waiting for the new wave of murmurs to dissipate, while clenching his jaw impatiently.

"Suffice it to say they were unsuccessful," he repeated, his voice carrying a fierce and challenging tone, "but whoever it is tried again last night. They tried to break into Clarke's tent and finish the job. So if anyone saw or heard anything last night or this morning - anything suspicious - now is the time to share." He finished, retreating back next to Clarke so that anyone who wished to approach them could.

His brief speech was met with silence. Curious faces swiveled to and fro, waiting for someone to step forward. Bellamy clicked his tongue in exasperation. Of course no one had seen anything. God, what he'd do for a little more courage in this camp. He tilted his head in Clarke's direction and the two shared annoyed looks. He was about to dismiss them when someone spoke.

"What were you doing in _Clarke's_ tent?" An amused female's voice asked. Over a hundred eyes were suddenly piercing him and Clarke, half amused, half judging, and Bellamy's mind went blank at the request for an answer.

"He's been staying in my tent because his isn't safe." Clarke interjected, an annoyed tone in her voice. Bellamy turned to her. Her eyes met his for a moment, blue skies to dark earth, before they looked back at the camp. Some expressions and raised eyebrows suggested that Clarke's reasoning was not being taken seriously, but Bellamy decided not to care what they thought. The idea that he and Clarke were anything more than partners - although, admittedly, not unappealing - made no difference to how they led or how they were respected by their people. So why bother trying to convince everybody they weren't together.

'_Maybe because you'd like to believe it yourself_,' a sly voice in his head murmured. Bellamy frowned and wiped a hand across his face, hoping it would wipe the thought away too.

"Well your tent obviously isn't safe either." Finn chirped up from the group before them, his brooding eyes on Clarke.

"Yeah, and whose fault is that?" Bellamy didn't even try to hide the accusing tone in his voice. Finn took an angry step toward him and he did the same, enclosing the distance between them. Clarke was quick to move between them (no doubt unkeen to have their dirty laundry aired in front of so many people)

"Wow, guys, c'mon. Not now." She reasoned, her voice low and motherly. Her eyes darted his way and then Finn's, silently pleading. Bellamy sighed in irritation and retreated, addressing the group again.

"Well if anybody thinks of anything, you know where to find me. Back to your stations. Now." He finished. The crowd was quick to disappear, but Finn, Jasper, Monty and Octavia were reluctant to go.

"Someone tried to kill you? And you didn't tell me?" Octavia started, rushing to his side. Bellamy tilted his head in her direction and scowled. She was so quick to judge him. But she was the reckless one. He just hadn't wanted to worry her.

"I didn't want to cause panic. It's no big deal really." He shot back flatly, suggesting the conversation was over. Clarke scoffed and raised her eyebrows.

"Really? No big deal? Because you lost consciousness on my bed before I could stitch you up." She reminded him. He growled but didn't reply. Octavia looked from him to Clarke, a look of bewilderment and disbelief on her face.

"Clarke? Why wouldn't you tell me?" She asked the other girl. Clarke's expression softened and she moved closer.

"It wasn't my place to tell you. We decided we wouldn't tell anybody - for safety's sake - but even if we hadn't; it still wouldn't have been my place to tell you." She murmured, eying Bellamy wearily. Octavia looked back at him and frowned, before devouring him in a tight hug. He grimaced when she hit his injury, but returned the hug nonetheless, wrapping his arms tightly around her. His eyes flickered to Clarke, who was staring at the siblings in silence.

He felt a sense of pride in being the only brother around. The only person with a sister. He couldn't help but pity the rest of them. He and Octavia were the only two people in the camp that would always be there for the other. Sure, he had Clarke, and Octavia had Jasper - '_And that Grounder_,' he added bitterly. But alliances could change. Love could fade. Family - if cared for properly - would never leave.

He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed before letting her go. She took a step back, and the happiness on Octavia's face was like a sucker punch to the heart.

"I don't mean to ruin the moment," Finn's voice suddenly sounded.

"Then don't." Bellamy muttered under his breath. The look Finn gave him told him his comment hadn't gone unnoticed.

"...But I think you're bleeding." He finished cooly. It was Bellamy's turn to scoff, until he felt the wet material of his shirt. He looked down and shuddered. He was bleeding, his stitches must have opened.

"God, not again." Clarke groaned and turned to Monty.

"Monty, I don't suppose you've found anything down here with effects similar to oxycodone?" She asked. Monty shook his head.

"Nothing as strong, no. But I think I may have found something for headaches." He added lightly. Bellamy saw Clarke repress a laugh.

"Well come on, Princess." He said, cocking his head in the direction of her tent. Clarke nodded and fell into step beside him.

•••

"Stop moving," she scolded. Bellamy huffed and closed his eyes. God, her hands were cold. He decided to focus on that instead of the needle going through his skin. '_Focus on her_.' He had told himself.

He could feel her hair, brushing his side every time she threaded the suture. He could feel her breathing - long, laboured breaths, to prevent herself from shaking. Her cold hands came every few seconds, brushing against his skin, gently applied to keep him still as she worked. Everything about her was rhythmic. He could have fallen asleep if he wanted to.

"So, I think that went well," she murmured. Bellamy pried an eye open, a frown forming as he did so.

"We didn't get anything," he replied, annoyed. Clarke stopped to meet his eyes for a second, before looking down to continue.

"Yeah, but...At least now they know what's been going on," she reasoned. He let out a huff and closed his eyes again.

"Though we should probably talk about where we're gonna go next." He heard her say in a strained voice. He felt her shift her weight and she exhaled in content. The stitching was over. He opened his eyes and sat up so she could start with the bandage.

"What do you mean 'where we're gonna go next'?" He asked, watching her unravel the roll of material. Her expression was blank - as it usually was when she worked.

"I just meant that...Well, you slept in my tent because yours wasn't safe. But last night proved that mine isn't either. And now everyone thinks we're sleeping together." She murmured, her eyes never leaving the bandaging. He moved closer to her and she began wrapping the material around his stomach, careful to not tug too tight. Bellamy stared at her quizzically.

"So you're kicking me out?" He asked, trying to keep it light, despite his current feelings. Clarke finished tying the bandage but didn't move away.

"No," she said, shaking her head. Bellamy frowned. Why was she being so evasive? He stood up and started tugging his shirt over his head.

"I think we should sleep in your tent tonight." She suggested. Bellamy did a double take.

"_Why_?"

Clarke rolled her eyes and stood up.

"Well," she began, edging nearer, "my tent isn't any safer than yours. So I think you can have your tent back."

Bellamy cocked an eyebrow.

"I understand that bit, Princess, thanks. I meant; why are _you_ sleeping _with me _in _my tent_?"

Clarke was less than a foot away now, crossing her arms in defense.

"Well, whoever it is is less likely to try to kill you if they know there's more than one person nearby." She finished, a confident expression on her face. Bellamy stilled for a moment. It didn't make all that much sense, to be honest. With everyone up to speed, there was less likelihood that the person would try anything at all. And his tent was still as unsafe as it had been the previous night. And _why did she have to stay with him_?

A smirk formed on his face as a thought passed. He took a step towards her and looked at her with dark eyes.

"You just can't stand not to be with me, can you?" He asked teasingly. He saw her cheeks turn pink and she backed away from him.

"Look if you don't want me to stay with you'- she began.

-"I do." He interrupted.

A short silence followed. This time it was her turn to look satisfied with herself.

"You just can't stand not be with me, can you?" She threw his own words back, a daring look on her face. Bellamy narrowed his eyes, but kept the taunting smirk in place.

"Princess." He murmured, before turning around and exiting her tent, praying her blush was still in place.

* * *

**I can't believe this has over 100 followers, thank you so much! *kisses every one of you on the forehead* I'll update as soon as I can, so tell me if you liked this chapter, because I really enjoyed writing it. We're getting closer to the season finale - cue uncontrollable hyperventilation - I'm so excited! xxx**


	11. Chapter 11

Octavia scoffed as she stared at her brother.

What was he doing?

Flirting? With some girl he'd barely uttered three words to over the past few weeks? She watched them intently, aware of the bitter taste in her mouth and the grimace forming on her face.

He was leaning into her, smiling coyly as he spoke. And she – some skinny seventeen year-old redhead whose name Octavia had honestly never bothered to learn – was doing the same; arching her back and batting her eyelashes as she giggled in reply to whatever he was saying.

It was so disturbingly fake on both sides that Octavia had to refrain from walking up to the two and slapping them both across the face. She spotted Clarke out of the corner of her eye and turned to approach her. But when she saw the blonde staring at her brother and his concubine of the night, she decided to remain in place.

God, Bell did not deserve her.

Octavia sighed as she looked back at her brother. Was he intentionally flirting in front of Clarke? Was it a ploy to make her jealous? Because Clarke didn't look jealous, Octavia thought, her eyes travelling back to where she was standing on the outskirts of the camp's fireplace. If anything, she looked the way Octavia felt: slightly confused and mildly disgusted.

She looked from Clarke to Bellamy, her eyes flitting about like a butterfly. She couldn't deny that they were far from similar. Polar opposites; that's probably the term she'd have used. She was fire and he was ice. But then sometimes, _he_ was fire and _she_ was ice. She was cautious, he was hasty. He was eager to destroy, she was always ready to heal. Alone, they made rather questionable leaders. Together, they were the perfect pair. Octavia shook her head in frustration. So they made a great team. Did that mean they'd make an equally great couple? Even so, it wasn't really her business, was it?

But there was something about the way Bellamy looked at Clarke when she wasn't looking – and boy, did he look at her a lot. Octavia wasn't sure she'd call it love. No, they weren't anywhere near love. Yet. But admiration? Respect? Desire? Hell yes. _Hell._ Yes. Octavia had never seen her brother look at someone that way before. Which meant that it was her job to make sure he didn't completely screw up his chances with Clarke.

"Bell, can I talk to you for a sec?" she heard her own voice, without realizing she'd even opened her mouth. Bellamy's head snapped up and his eyes met hers.

"I'm kind of in the middle of something here," he said, grinning at the redhead he was all but pressed up against. Octavia stifled an eye roll and cocked her head to the side. He let out a sigh and pulled away from the girl, glancing up at Clarke as he did so. Octavia followed his gaze and took in Clarke's neutral expression. '_Ooh shit, he's a dead man_.' Octavia thought, as she took a few steps towards the Wall, hearing Bellamy follow suit. She stopped and turned to face him.

"Octavia, what is it?" he asked impatiently. She cocked an eyebrow at his attitude.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked accusingly. Bellamy's eyes grew wide and he took a step back.

"What are you talking about?" he shot back. She frowned at his response, knowing full well that he was clamming up. She brought up her hand to point at the girl behind Bellamy. Instead she let it land on his chest, prodding him with her pointer finger.

"I'm talking about you screwing that girl to get Clarke's attention," her voice rose as she spoke. Bellamy hastily looked around to make sure no one was in earshot.

"Do you think that's going to impress her?" she continued, oblivious to his worry that someone might hear.

"Do you think flirting with some random girl is going to make her want you? Because it isn't, Bellamy. It's going to make her think less of you." She finished, folding her arms, hoping she'd made her point. The smirk on her brother's face told her that she had been unsuccessful.

"You think I'm trying to impress the Princess?" he asked, disbelief on his tongue. She said nothing but raised her eyebrows.

"I'm not interested in Clarke," he stated calmly, as though that one sentence would put it all to rest. Octavia shook her head at his stubbornness.

"Bell. It's me. You can tell me. Having feelings for someone will not make you weak. It"-

-"That's exactly what it does." He interrupted. The sudden edge in his voice took her by surprise. She took a moment to examine his expression. His brow was creased and his eyes were crowded with emotion – not pain, but something similarly so. She frowned and laid a hand on his arm.

"Bellamy. Why do you do everything in your power to keep this camp safe? Why did you find a way to make it on to the dropship and come down here with the rest of us?"

Bellamy bit his lip as he gazed at her, before smiling weakly.

"You, of course."

Octavia returned his smile and took a step towards him.

"Of course. Because I'm you sister, right?" she asked. He nodded instantly.

"Exactly. You came down here to protect me. Because you _care_ about me. And look at all you've accomplished. Caring for me never once made you weak, Bell. Some people can't cope with all of the emotions they have to carry inside. But you, Bellamy; you lead emotionally. You lead to protect and that's because you care. Your emotions do not make you weak. Your emotions help you to be the man you are, and caring about someone other than yourself won't make people judge you. People respect Clarke because she cares about us. Don't you want that too?" She murmured. Bellamy looked down at her, a smile reforming.

"How can someone so little be so wise?" he asked teasingly. Octavia grinned and shrugged.

"Hey but this doesn't mean you're off the hook," she said, suddenly stern, "You have to tell Clarke how you feel."

Bellamy's eyes fell and she shoved him lightly.

"Hey, I'm serious." She warned. He let out a huff and turned to glance at Clarke, who was busy talking to Miller.

"We're sharing a tent, O. I can't – I couldn't just tell her I have feelings for her. Plus, maybe it's just a passing thing. I mean… we sleep in the same bed, that's bound to stir some shit up." he tried to reason. Octavia let out a 'pfft' but didn't disagree. He gave her a look that suggested he wanted to leave, and she nodded her head in response.

She watched Bellamy make his way back to the redhead, and she felt her stomach begin to twist. But then the girl walked away, and he approached Clarke, who greeted him with a gracious smile, and Octavia couldn't contain the grin that found its way to her lips.

•••

Clarke's attention had been torn between watching twilight turn to dusk, and watching the Blake siblings hash it out. The latter had undeniably been the more interesting one. At least, until Miller had approached her, set with a sombre expression and a defeated step.

"Miller," she greeted lightly. He nodded in response and stood beside her.

"What's up?" she asked, ensuring her curiousity and concern was evident in her question. He fixed his beanie and glanced around.

"It's uh…It's about what Bellamy said this morning. About what happened last night…" his voice trailed off, as though he were unsure whether she wanted to hear the rest. But Clarke inhaled sharply and spun towards him.

"Oh my God, Miller. Did you see something?" she asked hurriedly. Miller shrugged, frowning to himself.

"Yeah…No. Hey, I don't know. It was late – probably already morning, I guess." He stopped and shook his head.

"Look. Clarke, I don't know if this is gonna help, I don't think this even has anything to do with what happened to your tent"-

-"It's okay, Miller. Anything could help us. What did you see?" she asked. Miller took a moment before he nodded and took a deep breath.

"Okay. Well, I woke up last night and I needed something to drink. So I went outside to the water tanks and I got some. And it was probably midnight-ish but I can't be sure…and I thought I saw someone walking around."

"Who?" Clarke asked immediately.

"Well, I don't know," Miller began. Clarke felt herself deflate at the news. But then Miller continued.

"I mean I didn't see their face. But, but I could tell it was a girl." He stated. Clarke did a double take.

"I mean, she was skinny and she had long hair. I couldn't tell what colour, probably brown – it didn't look blonde. But she was walking weird, kind of like she was drunk…" Miller frowned at the last line.

"Weird, right? Anyway, I wasn't sure whether to tell you. I mean, it could have just been some girl, ya know? But then I was thinking about it today and I just thought it would be better to tell you. Just in case." He finished, looking down at his shoes. Clarke felt a grin stretch across her face. Even if it was nothing, it was something. She thought back to when she'd seen the shadow in her tent. It _had_ looked female. She engulfed Miller in a tight hug, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Thank you," she said when she released him. He looked lightly taken aback, but he had a weary smile on his face – something Clarke was sure she had never seen on him before. He gave her a quick nod (which she eagerly returned) before he turned and walked off.

Clarke was ecstatic. So they still didn't have solid proof that the would-be killer was a girl, but she felt confident it was. Her mind had been telling her so all day. She heard the sound of someone approaching and turned around. Bellamy's face came into view and she gave him an excited smile.

"Wow," he laughed, "Someone's in a good mood." He quipped. Her smile grew as the two started walking.

"I think Miller may have just cracked the case wide open," she exclaimed. Bellamy threw her a questioning look. They reached the dropship and he parted the parachute-made-curtain for her.

"He said he saw someone last night," she said, once she was sure no one was nearby. Bellamy gave her a look to keep going.

"He said he saw a girl." She murmured seriously. Bellamy's face fell and he cocked an eyebrow.

"Yeah, cracked the case _wide_ open." He muttered sarcastically. Clarke too raised an eyebrow.

"It's better than nothing, Bellamy." She scolded. He sighed and shook his head.

"That _is_ nothing, Princess." he said. Clarke frowned at him. Had he not seen the shadow too? It had looked like a girl. Plus, Bellamy had certainly done enough to piss off at least half of the girls in camp. Clarke thought back to earlier, when she had seen him flirting with that girl, Mackenzie. She willed the memory to make itself scarce – now was not the time for emotions.

"Bellamy, how many girls have you slept with down here?" she asked him. The question took him by surprise.

"What the hell does"-

-"I'd say quite a few, right?" she interjected. His expression was a cold one and he kept his jaw clenched. Clarke rolled her eyes.

"Quite a few, right? And - I don't know if you've forgotten, but this is a camp full of underage criminals," she snuck the word 'underage' in there, hoping it would make him think twice the next time he decided to bed one of them.

"So it's pretty safe to assume that at least one of those girls is crazy. Or better yet, a murderer." She stated matter-of-factly. Bellamy had dropped his gaze and was scratching his head.

"I guess." He murmured, after a while. Clarke raised her eyebrows and smiled a slightly cocky smile.

"Right. So, I'm glad we've got that sorted," she said, a tone of finality in her voice. He looked up, embarrassment in his eyes, just in time to see her strut out of the dropship.

* * *

**Apologies for the super long wait (alas, I have no excuse except that I'm one lazy ass) This one's longer than usual and unfortunately without fluff, but it was nevertheless a crucial part to the story. I hope you enjoyed the Blake sibling moment (inspired by the real Blake sibling moment from the AMAZING FINALE OMG NO WORDS CRY HOLD MY HAND) and the Miller bit because man, I love Miller (he's a cool guy) The Octavia pov was kind of spur of the moment, so tell me if you liked it! Anyway, I'll try to update sooner this time (sorry again) and enjoy this last bit of weekend! xxx**

**P.S Jerry is in fact omg ;)**


	12. Chapter 12

Clarke Griffin had become the bane of his existence the day they had landed on earth. She had disapproved, disagreed and argued, and she had constantly challenged and questioned him. Few would care to admit it, but she too was stubborn. He remembered once, shortly before the chaos with Charlotte had ensued, when he had seriously contemplated killing her. Those thoughts greatly contrasted the ones he felt now. Now she was too important to lose. She was their leader, their peacekeeper, and their healer. She was strong and smart and strategic too – traits he had not expected her to own. But that wasn't all there was to her. She was not just an asset to the group. He actually liked her. She was kind, fierce, brave, beautiful-

-And she was tossing about in her sleep.

Bellamy froze, arms stiff beside him as he lay. He turned his head ever so slightly to watch her as she slept. And what a restless sleep it was. Some or other nightmare must have ensnared itself in her mind, because she was crying, tugging the blanket this way and that as her body contorted. She was whispering something, but whatever it was remained inaudible to Bellamy, as she was facing the other way, her back to him.

He had seen her in pain before. He had seen it when Wells had died, and Charlotte too. When she'd seen the dropship carrying her mother crash. He remembered the way her legs had given way and she'd collapsed in front of him, no longer his strong co-leader. Just a sad girl.

But even so, he had never seen her really break down. It seemed impossible, to care so much and to have so much taken away. And yet she had never shed more than a few tears for every tragedy. Even asleep, she kept her feelings in check. Keeping that much inside could not be healthy for her, he realized. This revelation clung to him, as though warning him to tread lightly.

Her whispers turned into whimpers. The sound invaded Bellamy's thoughts and he cringed at the painfully unnerving noise. He grimaced and considered turning on to his side so that he wouldn't be facing her. But that would mean abandoning her. Leaving her alone in a time of need.

Bellamy wasn't one to run to comfort others. That was Clarke's thing. But _this_ _was_ Clarke. Who could she run to? Finn? No, probably not. Hell, would Clarke even run to someone for something as folly and intimate as comfort? He knew the answer to that already. In that sense they were the same. He would never seek comfort from others. Help? Maybe. A good time? Definitely. But he couldn't think of a single person he'd run to, were he in need of some comfort. A little while ago he'd have easily said Octavia. But they weren't as close they used to be – and he realized that was almost solely his fault. He knew if push came to shove she would always be there for him – as he was and would be for her – but they were currently at a point where it would probably be best not to seek favours from each other.

Clarke didn't have an Octavia, he realized. She, like most of the 100, had no one but herself. That pissed him off. She deserved a family that she too could fall back on. Of course, this was their family now, he thought. And then it struck him. _He_ was her family. And she was his. So he would be her shoulder to cry on. It was decided. In addition, he would continue to be her leader, her equal, her protector, and her friend (although if he were being completely honest with himself, he'd have liked to settle for something more. But her feelings for him – if any even existed – had yet to be declared). So that meant it was his job to help her. It was his job to console and comfort and support her. He stilled for a moment. So what were the requirements? Should he wake her up? Hug her? For someone who spent so much time in bed with girls, he really didn't know how to comfort one.

He took a deep breath and stretched an arm out, searching for her. His arm halted, mid-air when she decided to turn around to face him. Poor lighting revealed tearstains and a frown, as well as a quivering lip. Bellamy sighed and wrapped his arm around her, letting his hand rest on her back. He waited for her to move in response, or to wake, but she didn't, and so he proceeded to pull her towards him until her head was resting against his shoulder. He moved, turning towards her slightly, so that he could keep his arm around her. He lay there, cradling her, absentmindedly rubbing her back, when all of a sudden he realized her crying had stopped. She was silent and still, no longer whimpering or thrashing around, instead breathing deeply and calmly. Her dream must have ended. He continued to hold her and to rub her back, unaware of his doing so. After a while he felt his eyes begin to sting, and so he closed them. The stinging faded and soon he fell asleep, but not before praying that he would never in his life have to see Clarke break down, or that she would ever have to feel enough pain to make her do so.

•••

She awoke in the early hours of the morning and felt a familiar presence beside her. She didn't know who or what it was – honestly, she was too sleepy to even bother attempting to decipher who or what it could be – but it was warm, and it made her feel safe and at home. She smiled at the thought of staying there forever, beside this warm, protective and ever nostalgic figure. She stretched where she lay, and felt something wrapped around her waist, as well as a weight against her head. She then decided to pry her eyes open.

The first thing she saw was a chest, rising and falling at a slow and steady rhythm, accompanied by the blue shirt he always wore. She blinked as she recognized the material. This heat and security and hominess – the heat and security and hominess she so desired…

She craned her neck back so she could see his face.

…it was Bellamy. Bellamy Blake.

He had his arm around her and was resting his head against hers. He had pulled her into him (or perhaps she'd found her way there) during the night. Neither had moved for a while, except that her hands had come to rest against his side and her legs had intertwined with his.

She wondered if she'd ever been as comfortable as she was just now. She was sure even her bed on the Ark hadn't been as cozy.

Not that she thought Bellamy Blake was cozy.

Well, obviously she did. But that was not the kind of thing for her to be thinking. She did not want to further encourage the feelings for him that she had begun to feel. There was too much going on in her life - too much chaos in _their lives_ - for her to let romantic feelings into the mix.

…Then again, they were currently sharing a bed.

Although the reasons for them doing so remained to be unclear. She herself had suggested it, yes, but she had no valid excuse. Him sleeping in her bed: sure, someone had set out to kill him. Her sleeping in his bed? For that she had been unable to concoct a reason. Other than the naïve notion that the killer wouldn't dare risk killing him with her in the room. She knew the real reason why, of course, but hell would have to freeze over before she uttered the truth.

Even so – even with his body currently entwined with hers – she was afraid of confronting her feelings for him. Confronting them would mean admitting them, and Clarke was not ready to admit to having romantic feelings for Bellamy Blake.

_The_ Bellamy Blake. The criminal. The rebel. The soldier. The harem owner.

Clarke involuntarily pulled away from him. The last one frustrated her the most. What had he been thinking? Sleeping with so many girls – one of whom might have possibly tried to kill him. Couldn't he have just picked one, like everybody else? Why did he have to go through so many? Was he really _that_ lonely?

She shook her head at her thoughts.

'_Enough, Clarke. Just stop thinking about him_,' she scolded. But that was impossible. Bellamy was everywhere. He was constantly by her side – both literally and metaphorically. He would always be around, whether to yell and to argue or to discuss and defend her. And although he really enjoyed flirting, she was quite positive he would never really be interested in her in a romantic way. As far as she knew he liked them dumb and weak – and those were not words she'd use to describe herself.

'_Just enjoy this moment_,' she told herself, tired of her own mind.

So she crept closer and closed her eyes, aware of the way his arm squeezed her when she returned to her spot. It was times like these she wished she didn't have so much to deal with. Sometimes she wished she hadn't become a leader. Sometimes she wished she were back on the Ark, purely so that she could live out her simple life, without any chaos, without any killers or complications.

So she chose to forget about all that was outside of Bellamy's tent. She chose to focus on the feeling of contentment she felt while lying next to him. While at the same time trying to forget about him, his habits, and her feelings for him.

Damn. It seemed even the simple moments in life came with some chaos and complications.

* * *

**Hiya, it's been a while, I know. I decided to kind of pause the story for a bit, so that Bellamy and Clarke could have time to think about their feelings for each other - but next chapter will be all business again! So leave me a review if you liked this chapter (or if you didn't, it's ok, I'm a big girl) or you could pm me if you'd like!**

**See you all very soon (I hope, but writer's block tends to strike during the most inconvenient of times, lol!) xxx**


	13. Chapter 13

Bellamy let out a groan and ran a hand through his hair. The four of them – Clarke, Octavia, Miller and himself – were standing around the medic table, verbally listing the names of all the girls he had slept with upon landing, as well as known murderers, or people they thought otherwise dangerous or suspicious, while Clarke wrote them all down. He had convinced them to make note of guys as well as girls, stating that, although it had been good of Miller to tell them what he had seen, there was still the possibility that it had been a coincidence, and that the girl had just been going for a walk or something. They'd had no choice but to agree, and so the never-ending list had been created.

"What about that Ashton kid?" Octavia suggested, her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. Bellamy shook his head.

"No, I don't think I've slept with anyone named Ashton."

Octavia tilted her head up to give him an unimpressed look. He shrugged and threw her a grin in return before turning to Clarke with folded arms.

"Who's Ashton?" he asked her. Clarke twirled the pencil in her hand and looked down at the list of names, brow furrowed as her eyes travelled downwards.

"No, he's harmless. I think Ashton stole… I don't know what – probably rations," she said, focus still planted on the page in front of her. Bellamy sighed and walked back to his spot.

"Well this is no fun," he declared, throwing his arms up in exasperation. This caught Clarke's attention, who finally put her pencil down and straightened up to look at him.

"This isn't supposed to be _fun_, Bellamy." She said icily.

Octavia took a hesitant step back from the table, and Miller did the same a moment later. Bellamy cocked his head to the side and gave Clarke a hard look.

"Listen, Princess. We're wasting our time here. This _entire_ camp is filled with murderers and thieves. The only way to find this person is by waiting them out. Eventually they'll try something, and when he or she does, I'll be ready," he said, approaching her as he spoke.

"Writing down a bunch of names of people who _might_ want me dead, is not gonna help us." He concluded, now mere centimetres away from her. She gave an indignant scoff as she looked up at him, her blue eyes as icy as her tone.

"Bellamy. Doing _nothing_ isn't gonna help you either. We"- she paused to point at herself, Miller and his sister.

-"We're trying to help you. So that you don't get _murdered _by some_ psycho_ in your sleep. So just, for God's sake, let me make this list, okay? Because I can't work with all this chaos going on around." She finished loudly. She gave him one last glare before looking down and letting out an exhale. It was then that she must have realized how close they were, because suddenly she looked up, eyes darker and wider than usual. Bellamy held her gaze, hoping his expression gave nothing away.

Because inside he was struggling to breathe.

Seconds passed. Maybe minutes, he wasn't sure. Neither moved an inch. Neither broke eye contact. He could feel his pulse beating erratically, hammering in his chest so hard he was sure she could hear it.

It wasn't until Octavia cleared her throat - and very inconspicuously so - that the two of them broke each other's gaze and retreated a few steps back.

He shot a look at Octavia, who returned it with a raised eyebrow and the smallest of smirks. He blinked and quickly regained composure.

"Well, uh..." He heard his voice trail off, searching for something to say. He glanced at Clarke, whose red cheeks and averted gaze suggested that she too had been affected by their proximity. This took him by surprise, but extinguished his inability to articulate. He felt his signature smirk make its way on to his face, and he raised an eyebrow at her.

"What's wrong with a little chaos?"

•••

It was just after midday and it was - rather unexpectedly - pouring with rain.

In fact, pouring was an understatement. The ocean had been captured by huge grey clouds, and released from the sky, right above them, destroying structures and flooding their camp. Lunch had just ended and everyone had returned to their shifts, when all of a sudden that damned rain had come rushing down, sending them scattering. Bellamy had been in his tent (luckily enough) when the rain had started, but he was no longer its only inhabiter.

Clarke, Monty, Jasper and Octavia were sitting on the edge of his bed, soaking wet and huddled together, while he - ever the gracious host - was standing over them, arms folded at his chest.

"What, were we interrupting?" Octavia asked sarcastically, teeth chattering as she did so. Bellamy scowled but said nothing. They hadn't really, but he'd been enjoying those five minutes of silence to himself. Peace and quiet was not prevalent in their camp, and he (being a leader) was rarely ever left to his own devices. Quite the contrary, there was always something or someone that needed his attention, and he'd come to realize that his favourite part of the day was the morning, when everyone was still asleep and he could lay in bed, not wanted or needed by anybody. This of course had changed, what with Clarke becoming his bed bud, but he enjoyed it all the same. She didn't bother him, she didn't force conversation. Instead she shadowed him, lying next to him in a comfortable silence. He supposed that was her favourite time of day too.

"We'll leave once the rain's stopped," Clarke chirped, startling him back to reality. He gave her a quick nod, avoiding eye contact, and moved to sit in his makeshift chair.

"So…Clarke?" Octavia began, shifting in her seat to look at the other girl.

"Mm?" Clarke craned her neck, looking passed Monty and Jasper.

"You and Monty were going to look for medical supplies, right?" she asked. Monty and Clarke nodded in unison.

"So I don't suppose you guys have found anything to help with...sleeping, or something?" Octavia asked hesitantly. Bellamy frowned at her tone ad leaned forward.

"You've been having trouble sleeping, O?" he asked from the corner of the tent. Octavia shook her head.

"Nah, just some bad dreams," she said, giving him a small smile before turning back to Clarke and Monty.

"Well, it's just one recurring nightmare. It's no big deal, though." She finished. Clarke and Monty took a moment to think, but then shook their heads.

"No, Octavia, sorry." Clarke apologized. But Octavia shook her apology off.

"It's no big deal." She repeated lightly. But Clarke didn't move back. Instead she leaned closer.

"Hey, I'm pretty sure we've all been having bad dreams. I know I have. But that doesn't mean it's not a big deal. You can tell me about it if you want. Maybe it'll help." She offered.

Bellamy looked down as he felt a smile form on his face. Knowing that Clarke was looking out for his sister made him happy in a way he could not explain. It was a relief to know that he was not the only one looking after her. _And the fact that it was Clarke, of all people_. Nobody cared as fiercely as Clarke did. She was their mother, through and through. Which meant that when she cared, she cared unconditionally. He knew that Octavia would benefit from that.

He looked back, only to see the four of them standing near his tent's entrance.

Had the rain stopped already?

He held in the sigh of disappointment he could feel settling in his throat, and stood up to greet them.

Jasper held the flap open for Octavia and Clarke, both of whom shot smiles at Bellamy before they left, talking rather animatedly to each other as they did so. Monty followed, and Jasper gave Bellamy a quick salute, and then they were all gone.

Bellamy stood and frowned to himself. He had been so eager to be left alone. And now that he was, he couldn't help but feel…lonely. Perhaps it wasn't that he wanted to be _alone_, but that he wanted to be alone with the people he felt lonely without.

* * *

**Ok so I may have been wrong when I said this chapter would be all business. Like...waaay wrong. I'm nearly done with my exams, so my next chapter will probably be better - but then again, no promises :p Would you like the next chapter to be more focused on the ever evasive killer? Or maybe Clarke's feelings? Feel free to let me know! Til next time, my lovelies xxx**


	14. Chapter 14

_Clarke could hear him barking out orders from where she stood in the dropship. He was in a foul mood – she could tell by his tone. It was her fault. For starters she had woken him up early that morning – big mistake. Bellamy was not a morning person. Then to make things worse, she'd started pestering him about rebuilding the no-longer-sturdy parts of the Wall during lunch, which would have been fine were it not for the already bad mood she had put him in earlier._

_She hadn't meant to piss him off. But who'd have thought he could be so emotional. _

_Then again, he _really _wasn't a morning person. _

_She exhaled loudly and went back to work. Some scrawny fourteen year-old had skidded down an embankment just outside the camp, scraping the skin off his arm in the process. She tried to make conversation while she cleaned his wound – which honestly sounded worse than it was – but the boy seemed rather afraid of her, and so he kept to one word answers. The conversation died down after a while, leaving the two in absolute silence._

_"__Leave us." The low voice suddenly came from behind her, dangerously quiet and composed. She immediately tensed – as did the younger boy. They both knew to whom he had aimed the order. _

_When the boy finally reacted and moved to leave, she stopped him from getting away. _

_"__Hold on, I'm not done." She scolded sternly. His big eyes darted from her face, to Bellamy's no doubt very angry one behind her. She knew he wanted nothing more than to oblige Bellamy's command, and she knew that by doing what she was doing, Bellamy's words to her were bound to be a lot louder and harsher than originally intended. But she needed to point out that she too had power. She was a leader. She was his equal. And he'd do well to remember that. _

_So she took her time to finish up with the boy's arm – much to Bellamy's conspicuous dismay. She nodded to the boy when she was finished, giving him permission to leave. He all but ran out, leaving the two alone. Even then, she took her time to pack away, keeping her back to him as she did so. Only when she was completely done, now lacking in excuses, did she finally decide to turn around, speaking as she did so._

_"__Bellamy, I'm not"-_

_But she didn't get to finish her sentence, because suddenly his mouth was on hers. _

_He trapped her in his arms, pulling her close, fingers knotting in her hair around her neck as he kissed her. She stood in shock for a brief moment, before she felt a weight lift off of her entire body, and she proceeded to kiss him back. Her hands went up to his hair, mimicking his movements. It was a desperate, hungry kiss, and the longer it went on for the hungrier it became. She felt him urge her backwards, to the medic's table, and she didn't protest. When they reached it he picked her up by the waist, setting her down without breaking the kiss. Her left hand travelled from his neck to his shirt, gripping it as though she could yank it off just like that. It was then that the two broke apart, taking a moment to catch their breath. _

_"__I thought you were going to yell at me," she said in between ragged breaths, looking up at him with her bright eyes. Bellamy moved closer again, resting his forehead on hers. _

_"__This is me yelling at you." He murmured, and then they were kissing again. And it was hungrier still. And she never wanted to stop._

Clarke awoke with a start, inhaling sharply as she did so. It took her a moment to remember where she was (Bellamy's tent) and when she did she couldn't help but sigh and reposition herself with the intentions of falling back asleep. It was at that exact moment that she suddenly recalled her dream, and a sea of melancholy washed over her, drowning out all other thoughts.

It had only been a dream.

She felt an aching in her chest as she curled up into a ball next to him and watched him as he slept. He was lying on his back – as he usually did – with one arm behind his head and the other reaching out to her, as though he had been seeking her out in his own dreams.

It had only been a dream.

She felt disappointment, and despondency. It would have surprised her, really, had she not already been aware of the feelings she'd long since begun to feel for him – denied or not. And what she'd have given for it to be real. What she'd give to kiss him. To argue and yell and then to make up the way they had in her mind. What she'd give to be able to lay beside him in his bed, and then to just wrap herself around him whenever she felt like it, without second thoughts or hesitancy.

Damn it.

_'__Damn it, Clarke. You have feelings for Bellamy Blake. You can't deny it.' _A bitter voice in her head scolded. She felt the insatiable urge to cry out in frustration. Stupid emotions. What good was this going to do, liking Bellamy?

'_I'll tell you what it's going to do_,' that same bitter voice spoke up again, _'It's going to make your life hard. It's going to make sharing a bed impossibly awkward. It's going to make you tear your hair out, waiting for this killer. It's going to make you see red when he talks to other girls. When he starts sleeping around again, you'll sit in your tent and fight the tears. When he leaves on trips, and he doesn't return for days on end, you'll work. You'll work and work and block it all out and you won't rest until he's back. And if he comes back injured, you'll be angry. Angrier than you've ever been. Angry at him, angry at yourself. And you will never tell him, because what happens when he doesn't love you back? How will co-leadership resume? You need to admit these feelings. To yourself, yes. NOT to Bellamy. This much concern is a weakness, Clarke. You need to keep this to yourself, to remain strong and independent. Accept these feelings. And accept that they may never be reciprocated. Accept and forget.'_

She felt the scowl that had already formed on her face. She knew the voice was right. She knew _she_ was right. Showing such emotions would only be used against her. By her enemies, even by Bellamy.

_Stupid Bellamy. _With his dark eyes and that flirtatious smile. That all-knowing smirk. And his authoritative presence, and his stubbornness and rough edges. And his need to protect those he loved, and his guilty conscience.

_'__Stupid, stupid Bellamy Blake.' _She repeated to herself, dubbing it her new mantra for every time she thought of him. And she knew she'd need it often.

She felt the bed shift and she looked up at him again. There was little light, but she could still see his face, and those dark, dark eyes – _Stupid, stupid_ – looking down at her, a stern frown on his face. He had shifted to his side and was now facing her, arm still outstretched towards her, almost touching – _Stupid Bellamy Blake._

"You're awake?" he mumbled sleepily, as though the idea that she might be was simply unfathomable.

-_Stupid, stupid,_

She kept her mouth in a tight line as she nodded. He nodded once in response and turned on to his back again, where he began to stretch and yawn.

It was adorable.

_-Stupid Bellamy._

When he was finished yawning he turned on to his side yet again. She eyed him wearily but didn't move. They were facing each other now, both staring, both silent.

-_Stupid_.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Clarke sighed and moved to turn around, but his hand shot out and grasped hold of hers. She stopped short and looked down hesitantly, watching his fingers intertwine with hers. Her breath caught in her throat and she slowly raised her head to meet his eyes.

-_Stupid…_

She saw his brow crease into a small frown and his eyes fill with confusion and hurt, and she realized she must have said that out loud. He started to detangle his fingers from hers, immediately drawing back.

Screw it.

Clarke grasped his hand tightly before he could let go completely, pulling it closer as she did so. She held her breath as her eyes met his, and she waited for a response. At first he did nothing, but then his frown ceased to be and the corners of his mouth turned upwards, breaking into the smallest of smiles. She let out the breath she'd been holding, and at the same time she felt a weight leave her body, the same way it had in her dream.

She smiled back, an equally small smile, which in turn made his grow, until he was grinning at her.

"Well, what a strange turn of events, huh, Princess?" he mumbled softly, his thumb rubbing circles on her skin. She said nothing, but grinned back. She could feel her skin burn as he touched her, and she was sure he could feel it too. They sat like that, in a comfortable silence, for ages. Neither spoke nor moved, save for his hand on hers. It was only when she felt her eyes begin to droop that she decided to move, with the intent to let go and to turn around, but Bellamy refused. He clutched her hand tighter when she pulled away, and when she gave him a look he motioned for her to move closer. She obliged, edging nearer until she was right beside him, curled into his side. He let go of her hand and slung his arm over her, ensuring she couldn't move away.

"Goodnight," she breathed, eyes wide. She was dreaming again, she was sure of it.

But then she felt him bend his head down and plant a small kiss on her forehead.

"Night, Princess," he breathed. And she knew it was real. And, in a way, it was even better than a dream.

•••

_He had killed so many. Too many. _

_300 from the Ark. Just under 20 from camp. _

_He had hurt people too. Too many. _

_He was cold, cruel, malicious…_

_Murderous. He was a murderer. _

_His face appeared in my thoughts, twisted, taunting._

_Cold, cruel, malicious, murderous…_

_There was no good in him, not this Bellamy Blake._

_No, he was evil. He lacked good. He lacked a soul._

_Cold, cruel…_

_He was standing there, looking down at them; piles of bodies at his feet. _

_Bodies of the dead. The people he had killed. _

_…__malicious, murderous…_

_Now he was laughing. Laughing at them. Laughing at the dead. _

_Cold, cruel, malicious, murderous…_

_He wouldn't stop laughing. He wouldn't stop killing. _

_He needed to die. He needed to be stopped. _

_Cold, cruel-_

_It had to be done._

_-malicious, murderous…_

_He was going back to his tent now, still laughing, still taunting. _

_His laughter filled my ears. _

_Cold, cruel…_

_Asleep? _

_I hoped so. I gripped the dagger, ready to end it. To end him._

_Properly, this time. _

_My feet carried me, following the trails of blood, of bodies, of death._

_…__malicious, murderous…_

_A spike of fear arose within me as I reached the tent._

_Could I do it? Could I kill a man in his sleep?_

_Cold, cruel, malicious, murderous…_

_Twisted, taunting…_

_Cold, cruel…_

_Malicious, murderous…_

_Yes. _

* * *

**_*hysterical laughter* *hysterical crying*_**

**_Hi, it's been a while, I know. But I've actually been busy (mostly) over this passed week and I swear, I rewrote this chapter so many times! So...uh...can I get a "WHAT, HUH WHYY?!" (at least I hope that's what your reactions are like omg I'm scared now) Feel free to review if you liked it, loved it, hated it, if you think you know what's going to happen next, if you think you know who the killer is - btw I love it when you guys guess because you come up with the best theories! What did ya'll think of the forehead kiss? DO YOU WANT THE KISSING? IS MY SLOW BURN TOO SLOW FOR YOU? _**

**_Apologies for any errors x_**

**_Til next time, my lovelies xxx_**


	15. Chapter 15

It was early – way too early, in Bellamy's opinion (he was _not_ a morning person) and he, Miller and Clarke were standing around the very same medic table that they had been the day before. Clarke was deep in thought, hunched over the table with a quizzical frown on her face as she read over her list for what seemed like the eighth time. Miller was inspecting his gun – no doubt as bored as Bellamy, who was standing in silence. Yet again. He'd have called it déjà vu if he didn't know any better.

"Where's Octavia?" he asked no one in particular, after too much silence, well aware of the way it made both Miller and Clarke jump.

"Maybe she's asleep," Clarke suggested, her eyes darting from his face to the list in front of her. Her eyes held no emotion, no recollection of the moment they had shared the night before. He knew it was silly – it had only been a handhold after all – but he couldn't help but feel disappointed and slightly rejected – two emotions Bellamy Blake very rarely felt, if at all.

"No, I'm here." Octavia mumbled sleepily as she came into view. She had obviously very recently woken up, as her clothing and hair looked disheveled – not to mention her eyes were still half-closed. She yawned and patted her hair down as she came to stand beside Clarke, who gave her a once over before returning to her piece of paper.

"Rough night?" Bellamy asked.

"Bad dream?" Clarke asked at the same time. Octavia yawned once more and nodded at them both.

"Yeah, I woke up like four times." She grumbled. Bellamy chuckled as he moved to stand beside her.

"Maybe you should have a shot or two before bed." He teased. Octavia shrugged as a grin spread across her face.

"Well, I won't say no to that." She replied. He heard Clarke scoff under her breath.

"What? Does the Princess disapprove?" he taunted teasingly. But Clarke said nothing, eyes down as she finished going over her list.

"Oh, come on, Clarke. Give it a rest." He said, heaving a sigh. She did then, putting the paper down and straightening up as she faced him.

"I will not 'give it a rest', Bellamy." She began, and her tone implied that she was not in the mood to be giving lectures, but that she was prepared to all the same.

"I have a really bad feeling that something is going to happen soon. And if you keep messing around then we'll never find out who it is." She said, a resigned tone in her voice and look on her face. She looked worn down, and it made his gaze soften considerably.

"Clarke, I know you're trying to help me. But we have nothing to go on here. And, I know what you're going to say, but what Miller saw might have nothing to do with this." But Clarke shook her head as he spoke.

"No, Bellamy, it's more than that – I can feel it in my gut. Did you see that shadow that night in my tent? Because _I did_, and it looked like a girl. And her movements were…" she stopped to search for the right word, using her hand to imitate the movement, "Sluggish; as though she were drunk. That matches what Miller saw, so don't tell me we have nothing. We have two eye witnesses! And it makes sense, just by the way, considering how you used to spend your time!" she cried out frustratedly. He looked down at her, with her wide eyes full of desperation and her chest heaving due to lack of breath.

Her words stung, but he knew they were true. He had slept with his fair share of criminals. It did make sense. Still, he was ashamed – especially because it was Clarke pointing it out. He knew he wasn't near perfect – not in a million years – but still, he didn't want her to think of him that way. He'd done enough bad in his life to send even the worst of people running. He'd made a hell of a lot of mistakes. And she knew that. He knew she knew that. But that didn't mean that he was fine with her seeing him in that negative light. She made him want to fix his mistakes. All of them. He didn't want her to _have to_ accept him. He wanted her to do that willingly, knowing that he was the best man he could be – which would only happen if he actually tried.

All he wanted to do was to hold her again, to tuck her into him until they fell asleep together. Knowing that wouldn't be the best move at this time, he lay his hands on her shoulders instead and gazed down at her. She seemed to calm down almost immediately, and the storm in her big blue eyes ceased.

"Okay." He said firmly. She looked slightly taken aback by this response, but then she gave him a small smile, which he returned.

It was at that precise moment that they both became very aware of Octavia and Miller standing next to them, both watching with smug smiles on their faces. Clarke was the first to take a step back. She shuffled away from him, eyes down at her feet, and returned to her list, which she pretended to be thoroughly engrossed in. Bellamy avoided their eyes and cleared his throat as he retreated back a step, shoving his hand in his jacket pocket.

"So, uh." He rubbed the edge of his nose with his thumb as he tried to think of something to say. He couldn't believe it, that he and Clarke would have a moment like that. Again. In front of Octavia and Miller. Again. They would never let this go now. If there was a God, he sure had a sense of humour.

"So, the search continues I guess." Octavia filled the silence. Bellamy and Clarke both nodded, averting their eyes from each other and the other two in the room. Octavia clicked her tongue, satisfied with the current situation, and strutted out with Miller in tow.

He watched Clarke from out of the corner of his eye, taking in her tired expression and her flushed cheeks.

"I think we should ta"-

-"If this is about you and me"-

-"It's not." He interrupted. She shot him a questioning look and he shrugged.

"Okay well, it kind of is." He admitted, and she begin to interject, but he stopped her before she could.

"All I want to say," He began, approaching her slowly, "is that… whatever this is"- he stopped to motion between the two of them, "it's not going to disappear. There will always be something here, if you want there to be." He said, gently laying a hand on her arm. She stared up at him, a small frown on her face, as though she were confused by what he had just said. He peered down at her intently, his dark eyes willing her to understand. Whether she did or didn't, he didn't stay to find out, because at that moment he heard Miller calling his name, and he found his feet leading him out of the dropship without a backwards glance. Whether she understood or not, the ball was now in her court.

•••

_Too many. Too many dead. _

_Cold, cruel, malicious, murderous…_

_His face, twisted, taunting._

_No good in him, not this Bellamy._

_He's laughing. _

_Laughing at them. _

_Cold, cruel, malicious, murderous…_

_He won't stop laughing. He won't stop killing. _

_Cold, cruel-_

_In his tent_

_-malicious, murderous…_

_Still laughing, still taunting._

_Asleep? _

_Yes._

_Cold, cruel, malicious-_

_End him._

_Gripping the dagger._

_Stop him. _

_END HIM._

_Following the trails of blood._

_Of death._

_Asleep?_

_Cold, cruel, malicious, murderous…_

_Twisted, taunting…_

_Yes._

_Cold, cruel…_

_Malicious, murderous…_

_COLD._

_Asleep?_

_Dagger…_

_CRUEL. MALICOUS._

_Twisted, taunting._

_Laughing._

_MURDEROUS._

_End him-_

* * *

**So... this chapter is short (sorry not sorry) and pretty uneventful (sorry for real) but it is pretty crucial to the story, because the next chapter is gonna be good (I hope lol) Feel free to leave a review like so many of you do - I love you guys so much omg nearly 200 followers?!**

**Special thanks to LauraFangirls for being my internet friend - she's pretty swell! **

**(Don't worry, Michelle I love you too)**

**Til next time xxxx**


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